Goldfish and Sorrow
by fuzzy-grapes
Summary: Otherwise titled My El Manana Story. But 'Goldfish and Sorrow' is spiffyer. What happened to Murdoc the first time 2D sang El Manana? Maybe he has a ::gasp:: heart!
1. El Manana

**_Hello everyone who is reading this!!! I haven't written much for this section at all in recent times!!! Yay!!! And, you know how everyone practically has their own story about El Manana video clip and that? (Personally, I thought it was a bit overly-dramatic, but that's just me XD) Well, this is my EL MANANA STORY!!!_**

_**Otherwise known as 'Goldfish and Sorrow.' He.**_

Murdoc would never admit it, but the first time he heard 2D sing El Manana, he came out in goose bumps.

"…_Maybe in time, you'll want to be mine."_

2D held onto the last note, finally stopping and looking at the other three. "Howzat?"

Russel shook his head. "Shit, man. That was incredible. I just … God, how do you do that?"

2D just shrugged, smiled, and popped a painkiller. Murdoc smirked. The dullard probably didn't even notice that Russel had just complimented him.

Noodle nodded her agreement, picking up her guitar and looking at 2D with her spookily intelligent teenage eyes. "That was absolutely amazing, 2D-san. You have managed to combine wistfulness and sadness in a way not unlike the way a flower in full bloom sends-"

Murdoc cut her off before her complicated metaphor kept them there all night.

"Not bad, 'D," he said, reluctantly. "Not bad at all."

They sat there for a while, reflecting, before Noodle broke the silence. "The way you express love whilst singing, 2D, is simply exquisite."

"Love?" 2D was looking, as always, confused.

"Yes, the love expressed within the song-"

"The song is about love?" 2D asked. His bandmates nodded. Duh.

"Oh. I thought it was about Noodle's pet fish dying."

And as quickly as the goose bumps came, they were gone.

_**Wow. Very short. Very pointless. Very weird ending. Have a nice day!**_

**_And, Damon and Jamie (owners of Gorillaz, for those obsessed with copy-right infringement)? STOP MESSING WITH OUR HEADS!!!!_**


	2. Dirty Harry

**1/1/2007 (!!!11!!!zomg, it's liek, da NEW YER!!!): I have edited this and changed it to make it BETTER. TRUST ME. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.**

**Hello! I didn't expect to be updating this story but I had a flash of demented inspiration whilst watching Big Brother (anyone shocked by John and Ashley being kicked out? I find the fact that both of their real names are Michael more shocking, personally) and came up with this little Edwicki-ish bit of fluff. Have fun!**

Noodle played it to them and, for a moment, the world stood still as the world became entranced by the soft, haunting melody dancing from her guitar. She softly murmured a few of the lyrics under her breath before handing 2D the sheet of the music, including the words she thought he should sing.

2D picked it up, peering closely at the lyrics. "I need … a … gu-u-un, to keep … my-self fro-o-om harm," he sang. He frowned. It didn't sound right, it was too, oh, how could he express this? Er…

"Brilliant!" Russel exclaimed, blinding them all with his broad smile. "Man, Noodle, you are a freaking great composer! Ya know, I reckon this'll be our best album yet!"

Murdoc sniffed disdainfully. "Mate, Russ, I think you're forgetting the simple fact that I wrote our last album. And, see, I didn't write this one – hell, it ain't gonna be topping any charts anytime soon!"

2D stared at the lyrics, focusing on the melody Noodle had played earlier. Or, more accurately,_ trying_ to focus. But he was having a hard time doing this, the melody kept getting mixed up with a different song he had stuck in his head. He needed to concentrate … Unfortunately; concentration had never been his strong point.

"Yeah, Like you could do a better job, Muds." Russel stared angrily down at the bassist. "So what are you try'na say 'bout Noodle's writing, huh?"

Sneer firmly fixed on face, Murdoc argued his cause with a defensive note to his voice.

"I would have done things differently, that's all. Binned the philosophical crap, written something better, more insightful-"

"To do with sunshine in a bag?"

Noodle lost interest in the conversation, turning her head back down to her guitar. She played an experimental note and was soon lost in another world, fine tuning the song's melody.

2D gave up on concentration and began joyfully humming the song stuck in his head – damn those catchy Sesame Street songs! But, oh noes, yet again, 2D could not focus! The Sesame Street song kept mixing itself up with Noodle's tune in 2D's head!

_Aaaah!_ 2D screamed inwardly, clutching at his head. Soooo catchy… Soooo confusing …

_Unless_…_Hmmm…_

"2D wrote that part of the freakin' song!" Murdoc yelled, dropping his bass.

Russel put his hand on his hip in a way reminiscent of Season 2 of _Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. _"Well, why didn't you help Noodle with the album if ya just gonna keep discouraging her?"

"I keep fucking telling you, man! I was in jail!"

2D hummed the mashed up, beaten up and generally broken and bruised beat, looking at the words. He'd almost got it …

"Look," Murdoc hissed. "It's my band, my-"

He stopped. What was that heavenly sound?

"Shut up!" Russel hissed, a tad unnecessarily. "Listen."

The two men stared in wonder at 2D, all thoughts of the argument forgotten.

"_I need a gun_," 2D sang, playing a catchy little tune directly plagiarized from this morning's Sesame Street show on the keyboard, "_to keep myself from harm_."

Noodle smiled at him and, after a few more bars, joined in with her guitar.

"Amazing," Russel breathed, shaking his head in wonder.

Murdoc snorted. "I'll say. Anyone who can take a song about arming children with weapons into their learning-impaired brain and spin in into a joyful dance song with a boppy beat is pretty amazing alright. Pretty fucking amazing."


	3. Feel Good Inc

**Two updates in one hour!!! YES!!!! This is utterly pointless, you do realize that? But I'd still appreciate reviews!!! )**

It was smooth. Flowing. Grooving, even. Until-

"It's no use!" 2D moaned, putting a hand on his heart and melodramatically letting the microphone fall from his spindly fingers.

Murdoc dropped his bass in annoyance and walked over to 2D. "We've got a killer bassline, a fucking great rap and a chorus that's gonna blow all those Clint Eastwood references outta the house," he told the singer. Then he leaned his face in to 2D's, so close that Russel was about to make a scathing remark questioning the bassists sexuality, and that millions of 2D/Murdoc slashers around the world were squeeing with delight. But back to Murdoc.

"WHAT'S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?" Murdoc screamed, demonstrating to 2D _exactly _how long it had been since he had cleaned his teeth.

"We-e-ell," 2D began, annoyingly, once the air had cleared and he'd stopped choking. "I just don't understand my motivation in this song. I mean, what role do windmills play in my life? I need summink to work with here!"

Murdoc sighed, looking towards the heavens. "Why, oh why, did we take him to Hollywood with us?"

Russel frowned. "He's part of the team, Muds," he chastised. But, inwardly he wondered the same thing. Ever since the failed attempt to make a Gorillaz movie, 2D had been speaking in 'Hollywood terms'. And it was beginning to really piss Russel off.

Noodle tried to shed some light for 2D on his "motivation". "See, 2D-san, you are feeling a great longing-"

"For the windmill?" 2D asked, "'cause that's the part I'm having trouble with."

Murdoc opted for some heavy sarcasm. "Oh, nah."

Noodle sighed, wondering how to explain this. "Look, the windmill is not a windmill. The windmill is a metaphor. Or maybe a similie…"

"Oh please," Murdoc sneered. "Dullard's confused enough as it is. Keep the vocabulary limited to four letter words please."

"Okay, we'll stick with the metaphor. Okay, 2D? The windmill is a metaphor."

2D tried to comprehend this concept. "So, the windmill could be, like, a rubbish bin. Or a TV."

"Well, no." Noodle thought deeply. This was hard! "The windmill is a windmill. But it is also so much more."

"Like those CD players that double as cassette players?"

"Well … sort of …"

"Are we quite done yet?" Murdoc interrupted, plucking a string on his bass impatiently.

"No," 2D said. "I still don't understand my longing for this windmill/garbage can/tape player that doubles as a cassette player."

Murdoc looked at Noodle, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think he's quite got the idea."

Noodle nodded. "I would have to agree there."

"Look 2D, bro," Russel began. "Think of the windmill as a-"

Murdoc sighed. "Oh, fuck this," he muttered, getting the feeling the dullard was never going to get it.

Russel raised his eyebrows at Murdoc. "You try then, if you think you could to so much better."

Murdoc scowled at Russel. "'D, LOOK AT ME," he shouted at 2D. "THE WINDMILL."

"Yes?" 2D replied.

"IS A FUCKING WINDMILL."

"I understand that part," 2D said, shaking his head. "It's just-"

Murdoc sighed, fed up. "Just pretend the windmill is Paula, imagine me and her getting it on and, voila, instant longingness."

Russel looked at Murdoc. "Each day you are sounding more and more like a celebrity chef, you know that?"

Murdoc gave him the finger, before picking up his bass. "Problem solved, D?"

"We-e-ell…"

Murdoc grinned. "Hey, Paula, wanna come into my Winnebago and-"

"Okay!" 2D raised his voice. "Problem solved." He picked up the microphone and hesitated. "I'll just pretend the windmill is my teddy bear."


End file.
